


In Control

by SqueezeBabe



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Office, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Subspace, rope kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueezeBabe/pseuds/SqueezeBabe
Summary: “Yes I can smile, but it's so easy to fake it. Yes I can act like I'm happy, but inside I'm falling apart. Yes I can pretend like everything is ok, but in reality I'm broken.”― Ester Escalante





	In Control

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this was my contribution to the Shibari zine. I was honoured to be included in such a wonderful project, and I hope that my submission didn't disappoint anyone.

“You’re handsome, and you have a killer smile. You’re diligent in your work; nobody can fault your performance, but…”

Jean-Jacques Leroy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The Director, Celestino Cialdini, was trying to explain why he’d been overlooked for the promotion to Sales Supervisor.

Again.

The feedback always seemed to be along the same lines: his charms and good looks were better suited to closing the deal rather than salvaging a sale gone wrong… or babysitting a bunch of ego-tripping salesmen. 

“But what, Sir?” He tried to be polite through gritted teeth.

Celestino sighed. “You’re just not _ smooth _ JJ. You’re brash. Loud. You close the deal through sheer enthusiasm rather than any skill or finesse. This is not a bad thing; you make more in commissions than anyone else on the floor, I need someone who has tact and diplomacy. Someone who can make the client feel _ special _. The deals that go south are often the ones that you’ve handled - they say your arrogance puts them off.”

JJ swallowed hard, fighting against the angry words that threatened to spill forth. There was apparently a fine line between arrogance and confidence, and he always seemed to find himself on the wrong side of it. 

“Look, JJ, it isn’t _ personal _, you know that.” it was obvious that Celestino was attempting to soften the blow, “You have a lot of potential for growth, just take this as a learning experience.”

JJ nodded, and cleared his throat, not really trusting himself to speak, but he had to ask the question anyway. “So who’s got the job then?”

Celestino smiled broadly, “Giacometti from the Swiss Branch. He put in for a transfer a few months back. Now, if you want to learn how to be _ smooth _ , pay close attention to how the man operates, you’ll definitely learn from him, and then who knows, maybe next time, you _ will _ get the promotion.” 

The man grabbed a folder from his tray and began shuffling through the papers within, and JJ knew he’d been dismissed. 

Stepping out of Celestino’s office, JJ didn’t feel like going back to his desk, in fact, now seemed like a good time to step outside and get some of that fresh air that everyone raved about. He could feel the burn behind his eyes of unshed tears, and the flush of embarrassment and shame that soon followed. Crying? At his age? And about his job no less; the humiliation would be too much to bear if anyone noticed.

Perhaps a quick trip to the gents was in order.

\----

It was in the gents, a few days later, that he finally met his new supervisor.

JJ was standing at the urinal, idly watching the stream of pale yellow as it left his dick. He heard the bathroom door opening, but paid scant attention to it as he shook the last droplets from the tip.

“Y’know if you shake it more than twice it’s considered playing with yourself.” The voice was accented. Sultry.

JJ slowly looked up at the reflection in the mirror, his brows creasing in consternation.

The man behind him was tall, just a fraction taller than he was. A mess of light coloured hair sat on top of a darker undercut and bright hazel eyes that were flecked with green stared mockingly at him from behind thin framed glasses.

“What?” JJ struggled to contain his momentary confusion at the intrusion to his ablutions.

The man chuckled as he leaned against the wall behind him, arms crossing over his chest. “Your dick…”

JJ stared down at the offending flesh in his hand, almost guiltily tucked it back into his pants, and turned to face the newcomer.

“Dude, what I do with my dick is my business. Who the fuck are you anyway, besides some sort of pervert?”

The man straightened and smiled, “Giacometti, Christophe. I’d shake your hand but you haven’t washed them yet.”

JJ smiled back, but it was more of a wolfish grin, a baring of teeth. Slowly, his movements deliberate, he made his way to the hand basin and began washing, making a show of it, as Christophe regarded him with amusement. JJ dried them with a flourish and extended his hand, “Better?” the sarcasm in his voice evident .

There was a faint metallic chiming, almost drowned out by the rustling of fabric as Christophe uncrossed his arms. The hand that gripped his own was large and warm, the long slender fingers brushing against the inside of his wrist. 

_ “A pleasure _.” 

\----

On JJ’s part, it was anything but. 

Christophe seemed to delight in showing him up at every possible opportunity, his smug smile, those bright intelligent eyes that mocked him at every turn… and infuriatingly, he was _ right _. This wasn’t some bullying campaign; everything that his new supervisor brought to his attention, was something that he could have done better. 

Had he become complacent? Sloppy? He hadn’t really thought about it, why should he have? After all, he was making more money for the company than anyone else was… except for Giacometti of course. With him ‘cleaning up’ after JJ’s mistakes, he was coming troublingly close to JJ’s targets. 

And it had only been a _ week. _

JJ’s eyes flickered to across the room where Christophe was lounging back in his chair as he spoke on the phone. Dulcet French tones drifted across the general background chatter, making JJ want to grind his teeth… because that was yet _ another _ thing that the man had brought up… JJ’s apparent “appalling” French. “ _ Mon putain de français est parfaitement normal! _” he muttered, glaring at him from the corner of his eye. 

A subtle movement caught his attention. Christophe had stretched back in his chair, his crisp work shirt growing taut against his chest and creased in odd lines, some running vertically, others somewhat diagonally. He frowned, puzzled by the strange pattern that seemed to be emerging.

The man shifted again, straightening back up in his chair, giving him a provocative wink as he continued his phone conversation. JJ quickly averted his gaze and flushed in embarrassment as he realised he’d been openly staring. Fumbling with his paperwork, he quickly stood up, and promptly knocked over his cup, sending it clattering over his desk. 

The noise attracted far more attention than what he was currently prepared to deal with, and he hastily righted his cup and made a speedy retreat towards the office exit with Christophe’s mirthful gaze burning a hole in the back of his head.

\----

It continued for weeks. JJ thought he was going to go mad. 

The end of the month results would be revealed soon, and JJ was sure that Christophe had managed to surpass him. He’d stayed back at the office that evening, long after everyone else had gone home, going over the sales reports on his desk, trying to find some sort of edge, a trick he could pull to remain on top.

He was losing his touch, his edge… he was a failu-

There was a faint metallic jingle, and a warm strong hand patted his shoulder. Startled, JJ tilted his head back to see Christophe standing behind him. 

“Hey, I brought you a coffee.” His voice was soft in the stillness of the office, “Don’t stay back too late tonight, you might make somebody lonely.” He chuckled, placing the takeaway cup on his desk.

There was a pause as he straightened, the metallic clinking sound under the rustling of fabric; it was driving JJ insane. He opened his mouth to say something…

“Good work today, _ mon _ _ chéri.” _

JJ closed his mouth in shock as he felt his stomach flutter, and watched as his supervisor sauntered away from his desk. There was a rush of adrenaline, racing up his spine, up the back of his neck and over the top of his scalp, the skin on his face feeling like it was being pricked by a thousand tiny needles and his hair feeling like it was standing on end.

Like he’d just shoved a knife into a toaster. 

\----

Business deals were fickle, like the weather.

The same weather that he and Christophe had been caught in on their way home. The office where they’d ended up was close to where Christophe lived, and he’d offered JJ a drink to celebrate the difficult proposition they’d managed to pull off. 

“_Mon Dieu, _ I honestly can’t believe we closed that deal. That CEO, so difficult and demanding, I just wanted to tell him to piss off!” Christophe made a moue of distaste before catching JJ’s eye and grinning, “But you _ mon _ _ chéri, _ you were _ magnifique _!”

JJ beamed, bashful but elated. Since that late night in the office, he’d discovered that when Christophe praised him, that it _ did things _ to him, and as a result, he had gone out of his way to earn those tidbits of praise. He’d opened his mouth to thank his supervisor, to mention that it wouldn’t have been possible without him, when he was interrupted by an almighty crack of thunder. The heavens opened up, and within moments the two of them were drenched. 

As the material of his shirt clung to Christophe like a second skin, JJ could see the a series of lines standing out from beneath the material. He stood transfixed as the cold rain pelted them with stinging drops and more of the lines were revealed. 

“What…” JJ’s hand reflexively reached out. 

Christophe interrupted him. “How about we get out of the rain first, and then I’ll show you. C’mon, my apartment isn’t far.” The man grabbed his hand and urged him to follow, and JJ could only comply, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

\----

JJ couldn’t help but stare as Christophe slowly undid the buttons of his wet shirt, revealing inch by inch, a smooth well muscled chest. As the shirt fell open, the source of the noise that had been driving him to distraction since he’d first noticed it became apparent. 

Criss-crossing over the man's tanned skin in an intricate pattern, was a fine silver chain. It fit snugly around his body, biting into his flesh as his muscles flexed and moved, the metal chiming softly as it came into contact with itself.

“Does it hurt?” The question was blurted out, the words spilling forth before he had a chance to contain them. JJ flushed, embarrassed at his apparent rudeness.

Christophe chuckled, his fingers moving deftly over the point where it all came together, and with a faint chink, it all came undone, the silver links flowing across his skin like the riverlets of raindrops that tracked after them. “I imagine that for some people, that would be the point… but not for me. I like the aesthetic of it; the way it makes me feel, both in control, and _ being _ controlled.” 

As he turned away, JJ noticed the faint red lines where the chains once sat, marring the otherwise unblemished skin of Christophe’s back. Without knowing why, and being unable to stop the compulsion, he reached out to touch them, running his fingers lightly over the slight grooves they had pressed into the skin. Christophe’s skin was warm, and the indentations under JJ’s fingers sent an unidentifiable thrill through him. 

Time seemed inconsequential, as Christophe stood motionless, allowing JJ to fill his curiosity. When the fingertips slowed their exploration, Christophe slowly turned to face him. They were close enough to each other that they could feel their body heat in the space between them. Hazel green eyes stared into dark blue ones for a moment, before he leaned forward, stubble brushing against clean shaven skin.

The warm breath against his ear made him shiver, but the whispered words made his stomach clench in anticipation.

“Do you want me to tie you up?”

\----

The hot water beating down on his back was soothing, but did nothing to quell the apprehension he was feeling. He wasn’t _ afraid _ as such, just… jittery. He couldn’t believe how readily he’d agreed to Christophe’s suggestion and if he wasn’t already wet from the shower, his palms would probably be damp. 

Christophe had given him a long and searching look, and JJ was almost afraid that he’d slipped up somehow, overstepped some imaginary boundary he wasn’t supposed to… but the man had just smiled warmly at him and suggested that perhaps a shower was in order, something to warm them up after the freezing rain.

That’s when JJ was reminded of just how cold he actually was, his teeth chattering violently for a moment as he shivered. He could only nod eagerly at the prospect of a shower and before long, he’d been led to the bathroom and given a large fluffy towel.

JJ sniffed experimentally at the bodywash before tipping some out onto a washcloth and soaping himself up; pleasant but not overpowering… but also something he’d never smelled before. Did that mean that Christophe didn’t use this shower? A change in water pressure and the faint noise of running water came through the otherside of the wall, and answered his question. There was more than one bathroom. That at least made him feel a little bit better than he wasn’t preventing the man from warming up himself. 

Turning off the water and reaching for the towel, he noticed a small pile of folded up clothes nearby. He’d been that engrossed in his shower that he hadn’t even noticed Christophe place them there. There was a pair of sweatpants and a shirt… and (and this made him chuckle,) a selection of underwear.

He selected a pair of boxer briefs, black and sleek looking, and quickly got dressed. The ensemble itself felt… surprisingly normal. Fighting down the small stab of disappointment, he wondered if Christophe had changed his mind after all.

Making his way out the bathroom, he found Christophe was already seated in the lounge room, two steaming cups of - he sniffed the air carefully - tea, stood on the low coffee table. His host patted the couch seat next to him, handing him one of the cups as he sat down.

JJ watched Christophe surreptitiously as he took a sip of the hot beverage, the man nonchalantly explaining that he’d hung JJ’s clothes up to dry, and that he was welcome to spend the night if he so wished; that a cab would be called to come and take him home if that’s what he preferred instead. He frowned, “But…”

Christophe held up a hand to stop him. “There needs to be a frank and fearless discussion about… that.” Hazel eyes regarded him carefully before continuing. “I need to know if you’ve ever done anything… like this before?”

JJ shook his head, “Uh… no?” He suddenly felt self-conscious. His palms were beginning to feel like they were growing damp and he gripped his cup tightly.

“_Non, non, mon chéri. _This is not a bad thing; don’t feel like it is, but it’s important that we... discuss expectations, yours especially.” Christophe took a sip of his own tea, still watching JJ discreetly. 

The careful scrutiny was starting to get to him. JJ could feel his mouth going dry and his stomach trying to twist itself into knots; his mouthful of tea felt like it was going to come back up.

Christophe reached for the cup, gently taking it from him, setting it down on the coffee table, before taking JJ’s hands in his own. His voice was soft, with a soothing quality to it as he spoke in low tones, his thumbs brushing against the back of JJ’s hands in a comforting gesture.

“I... am going to tie you up. You will be restrained, unable to move unless I wish it. However, you will always be in control, that’s why there is a safe word. If at any point you wish to stop, that you think that’s it’s too much to bear and it’s made you feel unbearably uncomfortable, you say the safe word, and everything stops.” Christophe paused for a moment, waiting to see if JJ had any questions about what he’d just said. 

JJ could only nod weakly, not trusting himself to say anything at that point. Christophe’s gentle pressure around his hands was comforting, those large hands imparted a warmth that calmed him, but also set his heart racing for a different reason.

“This is not to say that everything stops forever. It stops in that moment until you decide that you wish to continue or not. So communication is important. Don’t be afraid to tell me how something makes you feel, good or bad. This is supposed to be an enjoyable experience, both for you and me. I can’t enjoy it if I’m worried that you’re holding something back from me, to spare my feelings.”

JJ nodded again, this time with more conviction. He cleared his throat a little before speaking, searching for the right words. “You said, a “safe word”? What did you mean? What sort of word is it?” He felt slightly embarrassed at asking what was probably common knowledge. 

“Ah, that’s is a _ very _ good question _ mon chéri, _I’m glad you asked. The safe word should be something that wouldn’t be considered part of… the experience. So saying things like “no” or “stop”; these are words that could be construed as part of the play; protestation can be part of the encounter. So we choose a word, it could be a random word, or a word that is of significance to you, but it’s a word that cannot be mistaken for anything that is occuring at that time. When you say it, everything stops. This doesn’t mean you failed, or that you weren’t good enough. These things can be… a little intense, and it’s not uncommon for people to become overwhelmed when they first try it.”

“So, I say this safe word, and then you stop doing… whatever it is that you’re doing? Then what?”

Christophe smiled, “I check to make sure you’re okay, and then we continue when you’re ready again. If you’re not ready to continue, then we won’t. This doesn’t mean that we can’t continue at a later time and it doesn’t mean that you won’t be able to do this sort of thing with me ever again.” 

JJ swallowed, his eyes averting from those hazel eyes that seemed to reach into his soul and touch something that was just lingering under the surface. “And if I say that I don’t want to do this now…?”

“Then we sit back, drink our tea and talk about hockey or something until you’re ready to go home.” Christophe’s smile was warm and without guile, making JJ believe that he’d meant what he said. 

There was a pause as JJ digested everything that Christophe had said, all the while the man’s comforting touch continued, his thumbs drawing small circles on the backs of JJ’s hands. 

“W-will it hurt?” Apprehension made his voice waver slightly, but JJ had made up his mind. 

Christophe smiled reassuringly, and gave him a wink. “Only if you want it to.”

\----

It had begun with Christophe asking him to select two colours. With a quirk of his eyebrows, JJ had picked the first two that sprung into his mind. “Green and Purple…? But what…” Christophe had just chuckled and led him to a part of the apartment that he hadn’t noticed before, an unassuming door that just looked like a storage space.

The inside was a surprise. It was larger than he had suspected, with a mirrored wall, and what felt like a sprung wooden floor, polished to a shine under his bare feet. “This room is my “playroom”. It contains all manner of things that I find fulfilling,” he said, as he made his way over to a chest in the corner. 

JJ was too busy staring at his surroundings to notice that he had pulled out a length of rope, twisted rather than braided, with the two colours that he’d selected. “Here, _ mon chéri, _I think this will look beautiful against your skin… hold it, feel it in your hands… while I prepare.”

JJ stared dumbly at the length of rope in his hands, not quite sure what it was that he was supposed to be feeling; rope was rope after all, wasn’t it? The bundle of rope was relatively light, and as he rubbed the cord between a thumb and forefinger, he noticed that it was also remarkably smooth. 

A metallic clang startled him, and looking up he saw that Christophe had somehow connected a length of chain with a hook on the end. Taking the rope from JJ’s hands he asked, “Do you wish to continue?”

JJ swallowed, hard. His breathing quickened slightly at the thought of what was about to happen, what he _ wanted _ to happen. He nodded slowly and with a grin that was mostly bravado, a confidence that he wasn’t really feeling, he said, “The safety word is _ banana. _”

\----

The rope was cool across his skin, quickly warming up with his body heat and friction as Christophe began looping and tying the cord around his body in what was appearing to be a simple pattern.

“How is it feeling?” Christophe’s voice was low in his ear, the man’s stubble brushing against the sensitive skin and making him shiver. 

JJ managed a grin. “Tight, but I think it’s okay.”

He could hear the amusement in Christophe’s voice. “Good, good. Now, take a deep breath for me, as deep as you can…”

He did as he was told, feeling the rope tighten around him, constricting his movement, but also sliding across his flesh and biting into his skin. 

It _ burned, _ but it also felt _ good. _

“Now arms up, and hands behind your head…”

Bit by bit, with every loop and knot, JJ could feel his sense of self just slip away. He didn’t have to worry about being in control anymore… the rope was doing that for him.

All he had to do was let go.

\----

Christophe stepped back, admiring his work. 

JJ was the perfect picture. The dark coloured rope contrasted beautifully with his pale skin and he could already see the redness bloom in the places where the rope was the tightest. 

Stepping forward again, he slipped his fingers underneath the bindings, testing to make sure that they weren’t cutting off the circulation. 

JJ let out a hiss of breath, part pain, part pleasure, as pulling on one part of the pattern made it tighter in another. 

With a knowing smile, inch by slow inch, Christophe began to work the ropes.

\----

He was himself, but not himself, giving over to the delicious sensations that the tug of rope elicited from him. 

Every movement he was told to make made the knots rub against him, the bindings tighten around him, and gave him the words he didn’t know he’d been craving.

_ Good Boy. _

\----

Reality came back in a rush, like he had been held underwater at the bottom of the ocean and then suddenly released, racing towards the surface at an alarming speed.

He tried to take a deep breath but realised he couldn't. His chest was constricted, the rope around it felt tight and unyielding. He let out a strangled gasp as his breathing became shallow and quickened, and he struggled against the ropes that held him. 

They bit cruelly into his skin, a painful reminder that there was no escape. The more he struggled, the tighter they became. His vision started blurring at the edges and panic set it.

Dimly he was aware, at the edge of his reasoning and consciousness, that cool metal was against his skin, and like an elastic band that had snapped, he was suddenly free. He slumped forward, unable to keep himself upright. 

Strong hands caught him, and a heavy warmth surrounded him. _ You're safe now. _ The words filtered through the fog that was his panic. _ Breathe. _ He dragged air into his lungs in a long shuddering breath. _ And again. _

He felt weightless. Floaty. And soon there was nothing but darkness and warmth.

\----

His eyes fluttered open. Blinking a few times, he let them adjust to the low light of the room as sensations slowly came back to him. There was warmth under his cheek, and he could hear a slow and steady heartbeat. He shifted slightly against the weight that surrounded him, but was content to remain still and listen to it.

“Ah, _ mon petit chou _, I'm glad to see that you have returned.” The voice was low and soft. “How do you feel?” 

He ducked his head further into the warmth; the steady heartbeat was comforting. Fingers stroked through his hair, toying with the dark strands. It seemed like an age before the words formed, tumbling from his lips in a whisper.

“Tired.”

The gentle stroking continued. “And can you tell me your name?”

It seemed like a silly question, so why did it feel difficult to answer? It was like he was clawing the response from a sticky quicksand that refused to let him go. 

His tongue felt thick and heavy, like it was too big for his mouth as he pressed it against his teeth, trying to form the words. 

“JJ”

“Mmm?” It was a prompt to elaborate, filled with amusement and perhaps an undercurrent of concern.

He swallowed, working his mouth to build up enough saliva. He was suddenly incredibly thirsty.

“Jean, Jean-Jacques Leroy.”

Soft lips brushed against his temple. “Welcome back_ mon chéri. _”

\----

Performance reviews were always stressful, but this time JJ didn’t feel the usual spike of anxiety. He’d learned that his brashness and so-called arrogance, was just a cover for the anxiousness that he often felt. Was he good enough? Was he going to _ be _ good enough?

_ I am in control _ he thought to himself.

There was a faint metallic chiming barely heard over the rustling of clothing as JJ shifted in his seat.

Celestino gave him a wide smile, as he placed the sales reports on the desk in front of him. “Shall we begin? I think we will be pleasantly surprised by your results.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I am hoping to expand on this concept/AU and write more for this lovely couple. 
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Mon cheri - my dear   
Mon petit chou - little cabbage   
Mon dieu - my God.  
Mon putain de français est parfaitement normal! ” - my French is perfectly normal/there's nothing wrong with my french


End file.
